


holiday writing shorts

by sunkissedstar



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Christmas, Domestic Fluff, Gen, Pancakes, Singing, Snow, They're cute, doesn't mention any religion at all, holiday fic, it's a good time, just says they're celebrating christmas, medda is a great mom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:02:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21634828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunkissedstar/pseuds/sunkissedstar
Summary: Holiday writing prompts for Newsies. Enjoy!
Relationships: Jack Kelly & Medda Larkin
Comments: 10
Kudos: 17





	1. singing holiday songs

**Author's Note:**

> some short drabbles for the holidays! this is another modern au where Medda adopts Jack because it's my brand. hope y'all enjoy!
> 
> tw: minor mentions of past child abuse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December first. Jack thought it was a little early to be celebrating Christmas, but who was he to say something? All he knew about Christmas was the snow he could see beyond the windows in the Refuge, stuck inside on freezing cold nights. 
> 
> “C’mere, Jack! I’m makin’ pancakes, and you get first pick.”
> 
> ~~~
> 
> Jack gets his first glimpse at a Christmas morning. It's better than he could've hoped for.

Jack stumbled downstairs one morning, bleary-eyed and half-asleep, to the smell of chocolate and the sound of Christmas music drifting quietly from the kitchen. The Christmas tree was up in the living room, a box of ornaments laying open on the floor. The pillows on the couch had been replaced with red and green. 

Rubbing his eyes, Jack went straight to the calendar on the wall, which kept him and Medda from showing up to everything three hours late. The page had been flipped; instead of a big picture of a forest of reds and oranges, he was staring at a winter wonderland.

December first. Jack thought it was a little early to be celebrating Christmas, but who was he to say something? All he knew about Christmas was the snow he could see beyond the windows in the Refuge, stuck inside on freezing cold nights. 

He could vaguely remember his mother when he was a baby, singing off-key and spinning him around the kitchen. There wasn’t enough heat or food to go around, but they’d been happy. Once, a long time ago.

“C’mere, Jack! I’m makin’ pancakes, and you get first pick.”

Jack followed Medda’s voice to the kitchen, finding her standing at the stove; she was dancing around the counter, singing to herself and waving a spatula. 

_“On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me,”_ she sang, reaching across the counter to gently tweak Jack’s nose, _“One perfect little boy.”_  
  
Jack rubbed his nose. “I don’t think that’s how it goes.”

Medda shrugged. “Well, it’s all I wanted, anyway,” she said, plating a couple pancakes. Jack didn’t know what to say, and sat at the table as she slid the plate and a bottle of syrup towards him. 

“Go nuts, kid,” she said. “There’s more food comin’ later.”  
  
She started singing to herself again, making up the words on the spot. Jack watched her curiously as he drowned his pancakes in syrup; he watched as she swayed and watched as she hummed the melodies, dismissive of the world around her.

_“On the second day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: two plates of pancakes, and one perfect little boy.”_

Jack took a bite; they were chocolate chip. His favorite. He was surprised she’d remembered.

_“On the third day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: three shows per weekend, two plates of pancakes, and one perfect little boy.”_

Jack had spent his Thanksgiving break at Medda’s theater, watching in fascination at her life away from home. Sometimes, her crew would let him help with the backdrops. He didn’t mind that Medda had to work on weekends, even during the holidays. It’s where he liked to spend his time, anyway.

 _“On the fourth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: four candles burning, three shows per weekend, two plates of pancakes, and one perfect little boy.”_  
  
Jack laughed. Medda had complained to him after her friends left that all the presents that adults ever gave were candles, but he hadn’t seen her complaining when she’d lit them all at once. 

_“On the fifth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me…”_

The song continued, even after Medda piled her own plate high and sat at the table beside him. She sang, occasionally pausing to think of a verse or take a suggestion from Jack.

Ten minutes later, plates licked clean and dishes put away, Medda had Jack’s hands gripped in hers, twirling him around the kitchen as they danced. It was like he was just a baby again, being held by his mother as he laughed. 

_“On the twelfth day of Christmas,”_ Medda sang, _“my true love gave to me: twelve Christmas presents, eleven ornaments hanging, ten minutes singing, nine holiday carols, eight-year-old Jack Kelly, seven adoption forms, six months of fostering, five days off school, four candles burning, three shows per weekend, two plates of pancakes…”_

She rested her forehead against Jack’s, enclosing him in her arms as she finished the song.

_“And one perfect little boy.”_

Jack hummed, smiling under her chin. “Hey, Miss Medda?”  
  
“Hm?”  
  
“Who’s your one true love?”

Medda was silent for a minute, considering the question quietly. Finally, she pulled away and cupped Jack’s face in her hand.

“I’m not sure, baby,” she said. “But whoever it is, I know they’re lookin’ out for me. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have you.”

“Well, I love ya, if that counts for anything.”  
  
“Oh, honey, it counts for everything. I promise."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!!


	2. drinking hot chocolate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey y'all it's audition week and i am Exhausted but i'm posting this anyway! i'm no quitter, folks

Jack was cold. He was really, really cold.

He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but his toes were freezing off, sticking through the holes in his thin socks. His boots were almost worn through, too, but he’d bought some new ones for Romeo and couldn’t afford another pair. 

To make matters worse, the headline was terrible. Bad enough that he wondered what kind of newbie they’d hired to write it. He’d been standing out in the snow for hours, shouting anything that came to mind, but people weren’t any happier to be outside in the bitter cold than he was. They were tucked safely inside, doors locked and curtains drawn; it would be pitch black by the time Jack was in bed. 

“Kid freezes to d-death in the cold!” he said, fighting to be heard over the raging wind and his chattering teeth. “Read all ab-bout it!”

Newsflash. He was that kid. 

“I’ll take a paper, Kelly.”

Jack spun on his heel, meeting a pair of familiar eyes peeking out at him under a knit cap.

“Katherine,” he said. “What’re you doin’ out here?”   
  
Katherine pulled her scarf up around her mouth. She was wearing a long, beautiful coat lined with fur, thick gloves, and a hat pulled down around her ears. She crossed her arms and stared him down, managing to look intimidating; something only Katherine could accomplish when bundled up like a kitten.

“I could ask you the same thing,” she said pleasantly. “Aren’t you supposed to be the best seller out of the bunch?”   
  
Jack handed her a paper. “There,” he said. “That’s one more down.”

She rolled her eyes, taking her glove off so she could search her pockets for a coin. As she reached out to place a quarter in his palm, her fingers brushed his skin, and her eyes went wide.

“Your hands are  _ freezing, _ Jack.” She pulled her glove back on and grabbed his hands between hers, rubbing them together to preserve the warmth trapped inside. “How long have you been out here? Where’s your coat? Are the rest of your boys out here alone, too?”   
  
“Relax, Kathy,” Jack said. “All those questions can be answered by sayin’ we’re a bunch of poor kids on the street with no money. You know it as well as me.”

Katherine huffed, tapping her leather boots on the snow. Then, she decisively grabbed Jack’s hand and started walking, barely stopping to let him catch up.

“Woah, hey, where’re we goin’?”

“Jacobi’s,” she called over her shoulder. “I don’t have to be at the Sun for another hour. We’ll get something to warm you up.”   
  
“I ain’t sold all my papes, Kath, that’s why I’m out here in the first pla...”   
  
“I gave you a quarter for a reason. That covers them, and you can always just sell them back at the distribution center.”

She’d clearly made up her mind and her tone left no room for discussion. She marched down the street like a woman on a mission, dragging Jack behind her. He had no choice but to follow.

And so, fifteen minutes later found him sitting on a table in Jacobi’s, pouting at the floor. As he kicked his boots off, Jacobi came in from the kitchen balancing a tray in one hand.

“There you go, kid,” he said, setting a mug down in front of Jack’s nose. “Your lady friend tells me you need this. She says she’s payin’, too.”   
  
“But I…”   


Jacobi shrugged, patting Jack’s shoulder. “Drink up, boy.”

Jack sighed, watching as he disappeared behind the swinging door again. Resigned to his fate, he looked down at the mug. “Well, thanks for the tea, Kath, but I’m still gonna pay you back.”

Katherine frowned. “Tea? It’s hot chocolate. It’ll warm you up.”

Jack glanced back at the mug. The contents were brown, the color of melted chocolate. It was filled to the brim and steaming hot. He looked up again, and Katherine was staring at him.

“You’ve… never  _ had  _ it before? You’ve never had  _ hot chocolate?” _

You’d think he’d murdered her sister. Jack shrugged, leaning back in his chair.

“I mean, some rich people carry it around sometimes. I’ve seen it on the menu, but it’s five cents for one mug of this stuff. I’d rather fill up on free water.”

“Just try it. I promise you’ll like it, my mother made it all the time when I was younger.”

Jack looked at her suspiciously. “Is it poison?”   
  
Katherine rolled her eyes. “Just drink.”

He sighed, bringing the mug to his lips. It was steaming hot and he could feel the warmth seeping into his numb hands, bringing them back to life. Tentatively, he took a sip; the sweet taste of warm chocolate filled his mouth.

Despite himself, Jack smiled. He glanced over the rim of the mug at an expectant Katherine. 

“A rich lady bought me chocolate once,” he said, wishing he could stick his nose in the mug. “Tastes a lot like it.”   
  
“Isn’t it good?” Katherine said, obviously pleased with herself.

“Yeah, sure,” he admitted. He grinned at her. “You ain't bad at this, Kathy. How many freezin’ cold kids do you help in the streets every day?”   
  
“Not important,” she said waving her hand dismissively. She stood and brushed her coat off. “I’m going to ask Jacobi for another, I haven’t had a hot chocolate in months.”   
  
“Make it two,” Jack called as she walked away. “I’m takin’ one home for Crutchie.”   
  
Katherine was beaming as she walked away, but Jack was happy giving her that win. His hands were warmer than they’d been for days, and his stomach was content. That was all he could ask for in a life like his, and he couldn’t complain.

(Especially not when he found fifteen cents under his pillow later, with a note:  _ ‘For your boys. Thank me later.’  _ He had a lot more to thank her for than that.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lets! get! this! bread! folks! please comment and kudos ilu all

**Author's Note:**

> leave comments and kudos! thanks for reading!


End file.
